


Heat Wave

by untouchable



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, College Student Rey (Star Wars), F/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Romance, childhood crush, yogurt is a plot device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 10:50:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18658942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untouchable/pseuds/untouchable
Summary: Rey hasn’t seen Ben Solo in nearly five years.Five years is a long time—she’s in college now, nineteen, an adult. She’s too old for childhood crushes. And yet—She spots him from across the bar the minute she steps inside. It’s a brief glimpse through the crowd, just the familiar shape of him; broad shoulders, unruly dark hair, the pale slope of his jaw. He’s there and then gone, swallowed up in the next instant by the shifting mass of people near the back, but it’s enough, she’s seen him—it’s him, she knows it is, and Rey’s heart lurches in her chest.





	Heat Wave

 

Rey hasn’t seen Ben Solo in nearly five years.

Five years is a long time—she’s in college now, nineteen, an _adult_. She’s too old for childhood crushes. And yet—

She spots him from across the bar the minute she steps inside. It’s a brief glimpse through the crowd, just the familiar shape of him; broad shoulders, unruly dark hair, the pale slope of his jaw. He’s there and then gone, swallowed up in the next instant by the shifting mass of people near the back, but it’s enough, she’s seen him—it’s him, she _knows_ it is, and Rey’s heart lurches in her chest.

Five years is a long time, but not long enough. Because just those few seconds, just the smallest sight of Ben is all it takes for those old feelings—bottled up, repressed, ignored—to come surging up and choke her. And it’s almost laughable in a very unfunny way, because Rey really thought that she’d be over it, over _him_ , by now, that the years apart would've weakened whatever attachment she’d formed to him as a child when she’d arrived, having been adopted by Obi-Wan, to his hometown and pathetically followed Ben around because he’d been the only one in their neighborhood who also didn’t have any friends to play with.

So, yes, Rey has spent the better part of a decade madly in love with Ben Solo—ten years, over half her life, _Jesus_ —and therefore it’s understandable when, having glimpsed him from across the bar, she freezes. From Leia, she knows that Ben’s been living in Boston, but Rey’s been in the city for almost two years at college and, okay, maybe she’s daydreamed about it a few times, but she never thought that she would actually run into Ben.

But there he is.

Losing her nerve, Rey turns around and runs. 

***

Two weeks later at the grocery store near her apartment, they bump into each other—literally, she _literally_ bumps into his hip with her shopping cart and Rey wants to _die_. He apologizes even though it was clearly her fault, and she realizes that he’s never grown out of that, of taking on burdens that aren’t his. Rey remembers the way he’d play the peace-maker when his parents fought, how he’d taken the fall for her when she’d spilled cherry-red fruit punch on Luke’s white carpet, how he’d often felt the pressure of upholding the family legacy that came with being the only son of local celebrities. It was a lot for a boy to take on. Good thing he’s got such strong arms now…

Rey snaps out of her digression and realizes he’s speaking to her.

He’s got this soft, half-smile on his face, and it’s so different than the rage of the last time she’d seen him, almost five years ago, the night of the disastrous fight with his father when he’d stormed out of his parents’ house. Rey had watched him from her bedroom window across the street, having heard the shouting earlier, and she witnessed him hastily pack up his car and speed off into the distance. He never came back to their hometown again, and Rey doesn’t blame him for moving to Boston, or even for whatever went down with Han, but it’s just—watching him leave had killed her. She’d thought, after being adopted, that she’d never have to watch a loved one leave ever again.

Ben repeats something, slowly, like he’s said it already and...it’s too much. She’s in college now, nineteen, an adult. And yet she feels fourteen again, watching him go all those years ago, lonely and _heartbroken_.

“Rey,” Ben says, gently, and the sound of her name from his lips makes her shiver. “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” she sniffs, because she still has her pride. “I just—mango yogurt. There’s none left,” she gestures vaguely to dairy selection in front of them, “and I wanted to make a...um, a smoothie.”

“You put yogurt in your smoothies?” he asks.

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No. I prefer orange juice. Or cranberry juice.”

“That’s weird,” she tells him and revels in the way he laughs under his breath.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve always been a freak, I guess.”

Rey’s fingers tighten on the handle of her shopping cart. “I guess some things never change.”

Ben looks at her, and she doesn’t miss the way his dark eyes flicker over her body. She’s dressed modestly in her usual weekend attire of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, but his gaze sets her skin on fire.

“Some things do.”

Rey swallows. Holy fuck, is he hitting on her? She really should have brushed her hair this morning.

It occurs to her, after a while, that she hasn’t responded and they’re just staring at each other in the refrigeration section of a grocery store like _idiots_ , and it’s so ridiculous that she wants to laugh and cry at the same time.

“Are you in the city for long?”

“Long,” she replies, then cringes. “I mean, yes, a long time—I go to school here. I’m almost done with my second year in college in Boston...which is here...which you know, because you also live here. In Boston.”

_God have mercy_. Rey shuffles her feet, the cart squeaking with her slight movement as she forces her eyes to glance over the rows of yogurt again just so she doesn’t have to look at his face.

“If you’re not too busy, you should come over to my apartment sometime. We could catch up. And I’ve got this big kitchen, I could make you dinner...I seem to remember you being a fan of spaghetti?”

His cheeks have gone kind of red, and Rey can barely breathe. She actually doesn’t really eat pasta anymore, but she’s a fan of _him_ , so it’s literally a no-brainer.

“A broke college student never turns down free food,” she manages to get out.

They exchange numbers and part ways. In the check-out queue, she stares at his number in her phone. Ben arrives at a different cashier line a few minutes after her, and Rey’s pretty sure he can’t see her through the display of candy and gum and trashy tabloid magazines, but she spots his height over everyone else, and a blue box of spaghetti among the other items on the conveyor belt.

***

The air conditioning is broken in her building, and it’s only late April, but after her early childhood years in the Arizona desert, Rey hates the heat. It’s just warm enough to be uncomfortable, just enough to make her feel on-edge, as she paces her bedroom floor.

Finn is out in the living room watching some horror movie with Rose, and Rey really, _really_ wants to text Ben. He beats her too it.

**BEN (8:01pm): Are you doing anything tonight?**

She types out a reply and then deletes it. She tries again, but nothing seems right. Why is this so hard? Rey wants to scream. Who gave Ben the right to just show up in her life and turn everything upside down all over again?

Since the grocery store incident last week, she’s barely been able to think about anything but him. Sitting in class, she’d doodled “Mrs. Rey Solo” all over her chemistry notes, and yeah, it’s totally juvenile and a little creepy because she’s probably still just some kid to him, except he’d been _looking_ at her like—

She doesn’t even know. She can’t be sure of anything when it comes to him.

Rey’s phone beeps again and she opens the new message.

**BEN (8:08pm): Was that too forward?**

**REY (8:08pm): no! sorry i was in the middle of something.**

Wow, could she have sent a lamer text? With an aggravated sigh, Rey goes to sit on her bed in front of the whirling box fan propped up on her bedside table. It’s blowing warm air on her face but it’s better than nothing.

**BEN (8:08pm): Are you with someone?**

What should she say? Rey doesn’t want him to think she’s a loser, hanging out by herself in her room.

**REY (8:09pm): my roommate. his name is Finn.**

**BEN (8:09pm): Oh. how long have you two been together?**

Rey frowns, unsure of why he wants to know her living situation.

**REY (8:10pm): a year.**

**REY (8:10pm): but anyway about tonight, i can meet up with you later if you want!**

**BEN (8:11pm): Sure, that sounds good.**

He sends her his address and Rey smiles so wide that her cheeks hurt.

***

Rose, Finn’s new girlfriend, picks out her outfit. Rey doesn’t usually wear dresses, but the thin blue sundress is perfect for the heatwave and it just so happens to be really cute too. Rose braids her hair in front of her full-length mirror as Finn sits on her bed and demands that she sends them live updates every five minutes of juicy details from her date. Which, like, she doesn’t even know if this dinner is even a real date, but Rey hasn’t been on one in a while and there’s this giddy feeling in her stomach because it’s _Ben,_ and the possibility of being near him in any context is enough to unleash a horde of butterflies in her stomach.

When the braiding is done, Rey looks at herself in the mirror. Rose has already done her makeup, and Rey’s always thought her face is rather plain, but she’s astonished at her reflection.

“Wow, Peanut. You’re gonna knock this guy out!”

Rey grins at Finn and Rose. “That’s the plan.”

Twenty minutes later, she’s standing in front of Ben’s door, and the confidence her friends had given her is rapidly fading. He lives in one of the really nice brick brownstones in Beacon Hill, and before, when they were young, he’d never cared about that fact that she was poor while he lived in the grandest house in their town, but they’re older now and they’re not friends anymore and, truthfully, they’d never really been friends to begin with, he’d just let her trail behind him in the schoolyard and sit with him at lunch and at community gatherings, and the only reason they’d hung out at his house sometimes was because Obi-Wan was best friends with his grandfather, Anakin, and—

The door opens.

Ben’s standing there in a crisp white dress shirt and grey slacks—is this what he wears to work or has he dressed up for her? Two buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing his pale throat and the delicate hollow between his collarbones. Rey wants to put her tongue right _there_.

“Were you going to ring the doorbell or just stand out here all night?”

She glares at him. “I was admiring the architecture.”

“You’re still a bad liar,” he says and has the nerve to smile down at her.

Her stomach flips. His smile is the _best._ All warm and lopsided and it makes those dimples in his cheeks, and Rey knows that the other girls at school had never found him attractive and though she heartily disagreed, she was a little bit relieved at the time because Ben Solo was _hers_. He’s filled out as he’s gotten older, grown from an awkward and lanky boy into a man, but his smile is the same.

His muscles are a nice addition though and should not be overlooked, Rey decides as Ben holds the door open for her and his giant bicep flexes under his white shirt. She licks her lips, stepping into his home.

Ben leads her down the hallway and she definitely _doesn’t_ stare at his ass on the way because that would be wrong. Okay, maybe she peeked, just a little.

But then she’s distracted by their surroundings as they step into the kitchen. He’d been telling the truth; he does have a big kitchen, especially for the city. It’s double the size of her bedroom, with granite countertops and an island and a two-door fridge that's at least twice the size of her. Rey stares at the lone picture stuck to the shiny surface with a Red Sox magnet: Leia, with less wrinkles than she has now, beaming at the camera. There’s someone standing next to her, arm thrown over her tiny shoulders, but he—Han—is cut out of the photo.

Ben’s fiddling with the stove, stirring a steaming pot, not looking at her.

“It’s almost done. I wasn’t sure when—I mean, I didn’t want it to be cold when you got here,” he’s rambling, and it occurs to her that he’s nervous.

“It’s okay. Do you want me to heat up the marina sauce?”

She can tell that he’s totally forgotten about that part of the meal and Ben gives her a relieved nod. Rey pours some sauce into a bowl and sticks it into the microwave. She watches it whirl around and around, taking it out after the timer lets out a shrill beep.

Ben’s draining the spaghetti by then, and they finish making dinner in companionable silence, him putting the pasta into two glass bowls before she scoops an appropriate amount of marina onto each pile of noodles. His hand brushes her waist as he moves past her to put things back in the fridge, and Rey fools herself into thinking that it means more than he probably intended.

Not waiting for him, she picks up the bowls and wanders into the dining room. That very fact, he has a dining room like a _real_ adult, suddenly unsettles her. Rey looks down at the pasta as she places it on the table. He’s eating expensive, organic spaghetti while she’s used to cheap ramen, and all at once Rey just feels so out of her depth. How can she sit here in his tastefully decorated dining room and make small talk until he’s satisfied that he’s done his duty in feeding her, an old family friend, and they never see each other again? Rey can’t imagine how much it's going to hurt when he walks away this time. Her hands shake a little at just the thought of it, of being here, _so close_ , and then being left with nothing but daydreams to keep her company for the rest of her days. Because, whether he meant to or not, Rey’s pretty sure Ben’s ruined her for anyone else.

“You have that look on your face again, like you did outside. Like you’re going to bolt.”

“I just—Ben, I don’t think I can—”

He steps closer to her. He’s got two wine glasses in his hands. Rey’s cheeks flare red—should she tell him she’s too young to drink? This fact has never stopped her, but still.

“It’s alright. I’m not...I don’t want anything from you.”

His words are like a punch to her gut. _I don’t want you_ , she hears.

“So this is what, charity?” she demands.

Ben blinks. Confusion makes his dark brows draw together. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

But Rey’s too gone to be reasoned with.

“Whatever. I knew this was a bad idea. I just wanted,” _you, always_ , “to catch up, but this is—”

“Rey, please, I—”

She is horribly embarrassed when her eyes fill with tears. She just feels so _stupid_ . Why had she let Rose convince her to wear this dress? It’s too tight, and her hair’s all wrong, and it’s all just too much. Rey can’t believe she dressed up for a non-date with the love of her life and now she’s _crying_ in his dining room. Will the floor swallow her up already?

She’s glad her vision has gone blurry. Looking at him is like poking at an old would that just won’t heal.

“Sorry, sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Rey hastily swipes the fallen tears from her cheeks.

Where the hell did she put her purse? She needs to find it ASAP and get out of here before she does something she might regret.

But then Ben’s in front of her, glasses placed elsewhere, touching her upper arms with slow, gentle movements like he’s afraid to spook her. His hands are warm and _huge_ ; Rey gasps at the feel of his skin sliding against hers.

He releases her, grimacing. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate. I...don’t want you to leave, but I understand if that’s what you wish to do. I would never force you into anything. I know you...have something with your roommate, and you and I have probably got too much history anyway—that’s okay with me. We can just be friends. I’ve...missed you.”

What is he even talking about?

“Missed me? Why didn’t you call me, then?”

“I wasn’t sure...after what happened with my dad I just needed to be alone, and after that—”

“Alone?” Rey says, and her voice cracks a little. “Why couldn’t you be _alone_ with me there? I could have gone with you.”

He tilts his head, studying her face. Ben lifts his hand, like he wants to reach out to her, but then he lefts it drop again, clenches his fingers into a fist.

“You were fourteen. I couldn’t be like that with you then.”

“What about now?”

Rey says it before she can stifle the urge. Once it's out there, she doesn’t regret it. Tears dried, Rey watches his chest move as he takes a shuddered breath.

“What about Finn?”

“I don’t understand. What about him?”

“I thought…you said you were with him.”

She’s confused again. “Yeah, I was. We live together.”

“You’re not sleeping with him?”

Rey blinks. The texts, oh my God...

The whole thing, she’s sure, is going to be hilarious later.

“No, no, I didn’t know you were asking...shit, I’m not _with_ Finn, I swear, I’m very much single,” Rey rushes out, breathless and still a bit uncertain, but she’s holding her hand out to him before she can stop herself.

Ben takes it, his fingertips touching hers, just a hint of contact, and then he’s sliding his palm against hers and twining their fingers together.

“Good,” he says, voice rough and warm and perfect.

She can’t help herself—she kisses him, a chaste peck to the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t been expecting it; Ben stills, going rigid, releasing her hand. When Rey pulls back to stare up at him, there’s something kind of desperate about the look on his face.

His fingers brush against her jaw. “The spaghetti’s getting cold.”

“Screw the spaghetti.

Ben huffs a laugh, but he quickly sobers. His eyes are very dark, watching as his hands trails down her throat. She sucks in a harsh breath, and his pupils dilate. He moves closer so that there’s barely any space between their bodies. He’s intensely focused on watching his own fingers move over her skin, trace her collarbone and continue down to the valley between her breasts.

Rey feels like she’s going to combust.

He slips his hand beneath the thin fabric of her sundress. His house is delightfully cool, the air conditioning pumping through the vents, and that, she convinces herself, is the only reason her nipples get hard. Or maybe it’s his calloused palm against her sensitive skin, making sparks fly in her chest.

“I keep thinking about you,” he whispers, “since the grocery store. I can’t get you out of my head. You’re everywhere, in my dreams, haunting me.”

Ben’s eyes flick up to glance at her face. Rey can’t even imagine how unraveled she must look.

Moving as one, they close the distance, and this kiss is anything but chaste. Open-mouthed, tongues sliding together, Rey melts into him as her hands tangle in his thick hair. It’s much longer than it had been when they’d been younger and she loves the feeling of it. Ben pushes her against the wall and Rey’s fingers tighten at the back of his skull. He groans into her mouth, thrusting against her through all their clothes, and Rey needs both of them to be naked _now_.

She pulls at the hem of his shirt, untucking it from his trousers and trying to unbutton it, but without being able to look the attempt is kind of pathetic. When Rey gets frustrated, Ben breaks away.

She pouts. “Why are we stopping? Stopping is bad.”

He bumps their noses together fondly. “Just for a minute, sweetheart. Why don’t we go upstairs?”

At the pet name, her heart thumps in her chest. Rey nods.

A moment later, a wicked grin spreads across her face. “Catch me if you can, Solo,” Rey sing-songs, kicking her heels off before she darts out of the dining room.

She wasn’t exactly paying attention to the layout of the house earlier, but she finds the staircase and is half-way up it before Ben recovers enough to chase her. She hears him thundering up the stairs after her and a giggle escapes her mouth as Rey runs down the hall and tries to find his bedroom. Maybe if she hides he won’t find her and Rey will never have to leave. There isn’t time for any sort of hiding though, because Ben’s legs are much longer than hers and he knows where he’s going, and all of a sudden he’s right behind her as she enters the last room along the hallway.

It’s his bedroom, just as she’d guessed, with a huge neatly-made bed over to one side and glass doors leading to a balcony taking up the far wall. It’s stunning, but Rey has more important things to focus on. Namely, how Ben’s panting in her ear, hands gripping her hips from behind. She can feel him, already hard, against her lower back and it makes her breathless.

“I can’t believe that I’m here with you, that you...want me,” she says, and it’s so much easier to be honest when she doesn’t have to look at him.

Ben nuzzles her neck, and she leans back against the solid plane of his body. “How could anyone not want you?”

Rey swallows. She’s gone frozen, and he realizes what he’s said a second too late.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I know your parents...I know. Rey—”

She turns around in his arms, pressing her face against his chest. His arms go around her waist immediately.

“Will you just...hold me?” she asks, even though he’s already holding her. “Hold me, please,” Rey whispers, and she’s not even sure what she’s asking for.

“I’m right here,” Ben says. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

“Neither are you.”

He brushes his hand gently down the back of her hair to comfort her, and Rey lets out a breath that she’s been holding for a very long time.

***

They fall asleep together, cuddling, with their clothes on.

At around dawn, she’s jolted awake by moaning. It’s Ben, breathing heavily, his face scrunched up like he’s in pain. Rey reaches out to him, says his name softly to draw him from the bad dream, but he continues to toss and turn.

“ _Ben_ ,” she says, louder, a jarring sound in the quiet room.

He gasps, eyes flying open, so wide that she can see the white all the way around.

“Rey?” His voice is scratchy, frantic and feverish, still halfway in the land of nightmares. He looks so young, so afraid, that her heart hurts.

She scoots closer, right up against his side. Ben’s chest is rising and falling rapidly as he stares at her, and her own heartbeat is making a racket in her chest, and for several long lingering minutes they just gaze at each other in the dark. With her fingers, Rey smoothes the puckered skin between his eyebrows, trailing down the slope of his nose, pausing as she grazes his upper lip. He’s got this look, awe brightening his features, and Rey revels in it, in every expression that she sees go over his face. She remembers a conversation from a lifetime ago when Han had tried to teach Ben how to play poker— _“You’re too expressive, even sunglasses wouldn’t work. You should wear a mask, kid, your face gives you away every time…”_

Lost in memory, Rey murmurs, “I missed you so much, Ben.”

His lips part. He shifts, rolling so that he’s flattening her against the mattress with his weight. All thoughts of sleep are gone; lust fills her belly when she feels the outline of his dick against her inner thigh.

She arches into him. “Touch me,” Rey breathes. “Like I always—”

Ben nudges her legs apart with his knee, one hand coming to hike up her dress. Fire fills her veins. His voice is a rumble, “Like what?”

The words come out in a rush. “I used to touch myself, in my bedroom in the dark, and imagine that it was you.”

Ben groans, his hips bucking against her. The movement sends heat flaring throughout her body. She has too many clothes on, Rey decides. She wiggles to get out of her sundress and Ben understands, getting to his knees. Towering over her, his shirt gives way to the smooth plane of his chest, the muscles in his abdomen rippling under pale skin as he lowers his arms. Rey stares for a moment longer than strictly necessary before quickly scurrying to get her own clothes over her head.

Moving in tandem, their mouths smash together. Soon, their underwear is gone, and with how Ben’s been running his fingers through her hair her loosened braids are nonexistent, her brown hair tumbling over her shoulder. His hair is in disarray too, and when he leans back a little, bracing himself above her body with his forearms, Ben looks positively _wild_.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, and she believes him because, despite his flaws, he’s a bad liar too.

Then he’s gone, and the cold air of the room hits her body, slick with sweat, and she shivers, panic swelling in her chest. Rey clutches his arm, trying to keep him in the bed.

Ben chuckles, and he brushes the side of her face tenderly. “I’m coming back, sweetheart, I promise. I’m just gonna get a condom.”

Rey listens to him rip the package and the rustle of the bedsheets as he crawls back over to her. Something like relief calms her frazzled nerves when Ben lays back down between her legs. Later, when they’re not in such a hurry, they can explore with foreplay, but Rey’s going to explode if he doesn’t get in her _right now_.

Ben seems to be on the same page because suddenly their hips are aligned, and he’s pushing into her, stretching her so that pleasure borders on pain, and it’s real and raw and _so_ good, better than any daydream. Once fully sheathed, Ben pauses, eyes roving all over her. His hair curtains his face and casts shadows all over his features, so she loops her arms around his neck and pulls him down farther so that their lips are inches apart. She can’t see him any better, but she can _feel_ him, lips ghosting over her mouth, her breasts pushing against his chest, hips fitting together like they were made for each other.

Maybe she says this last part out loud, or maybe he’s realized the same thing, because Ben’s face spasms, that awe from earlier making a swift comeback. Rey lifts her pelvis, sending him the hint that she’s ready for more, and that’s all the encouragement he needs. Ben pulls out, only the tip of his cock still in her, before thrusting all the way back in. She meets him in the middle the second time, and they set a rhythm together.

When she comes, it’s harder than she’s ever orgasmed in her life, and Rey has to bite her lip from telling him how much she loves him. Ben finishes moments after her, face buried in her neck, breath hot against the shell of her ear. Her fingers had been digging marks into the skin of his biceps, but she relaxes her grip in the aftermath, running her palms over his back to pet his hair.

“Will you stay?” Ben asks, quietly, mouth moving against her shoulder.

Her heart siezes. “Do you want me to?”

“Obviously. I’ve been miserable without you,” Ben mutters, and she can feel him smile, he’s kind of joking, but his voice is serious, so at the same time he’s kind of _not_.

“Okay. Good,” Rey responds.

As they drift off, she can’t help but think that this is all of her high school fantasies comes to life—or, well, some things are different, but Rey doesn’t care that he wasn’t her first because she’s damn certain Ben’s going to be her last.

***

The next morning, as she’s doing damage-control with Finn (when she hadn’t answered his texts last night, Rose had to talk him out of calling the police), Rey goes downstairs in one of Ben’s big t-shirts to make coffee with her cell phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. She wants to start the machine and get it done as quickly as possible in order to go back to that nice warm bed with sleepy-Ben kisses, but when Rey opens the fridge door to look for creamer she stops, stares, her lips curving into a wide grin.

On the top shelf, right in the front, is a big container of mango yogurt.


End file.
